


The Most Obvious Trap

by sparklight



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Spark Sex, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Blessed of Primus are attracted to virgins, this is a known fact, so what better thing to use as bait when there's been reports of a Blessed near a temple, which is very interested in... hosting... said rare mech?</p><p>Cliffjumper doesn't agree this is a good idea at all, or that the Blessed even exist - this is stupid and a waste of time!</p><p>A kinkmeme promp fill: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=14063360#t14063360</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Obvious Trap

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious for what Mirage looks like in his unicorn altmode, look up Ramulus in the wiki - Mirage is very similar to that, though sleeker and with only a single horn, of course!

::This is fraggin' _ridiculous_ and I can't believe we're doin' this! And why the slag _did I agree_? I'm gonna beat all of your rusted faceplates in!:: If he'd been yelling, the red minibot would've disturbed the quiet morning pretty thoroughly - his voice took on a quite mean, static-buoyed tone when he was angry. It'd have scared the thruster of turbofoxes that had stared at the group when they'd arrived but hadn't been chased into whatever holes they had, and it'd _definitely_ had driven off the lilleths that had settled at the top branches of the energon deposit reeds that dotted the valley, growing to more sturdy proportions along the sides and up on the ridges.

::You're stayin' the slag where you are, and if you move I'm gonna to take a knee-joint out,:: Sunstreaker snapped, shifting his rifle enough to catch sunlight down along the barrel. Despite the fact that the threat wasn't as dire as it seemed - a shock rifle paralyzed, not injured, though it'd fry circuitry pretty well - Cliffjumper's engine revved, though more in outrage than shock as he scowled and threw a fist up in Sunstreaker's direction. The turbofoxes bayed and the two alphas briefly slunk closer, growling, before they retreated to their end of the valley, and the lilleths exploded from their perch, two dozen opal-and-neon glittering winged creatures fluttering around before they cautiously settled again.

Lilleths were stunning but skittish, their nearly see-through metal-lattice bodies carried by their gas and EM field wings, leaving coloured trails in the sky. A good omen, supposedly, though if Cliffjumper continued to make a racket like he was, their good luck would probably leave with the birds.

::'Sides, like this you ain't gonna have to take service directly with the temple, so why are you complaining? You just gotta sit there and look pretty and unfragged - which oughtn't be a problem for ya - and we do the hard part and the race is yours.:: Sideswipe, even with Cliffjumper unable to see it, was totally smirking where he was leaning back against a tree, winding energon rope for easy access later. This time, Cliffjumper kept the feedback-choked outrage to the comm. instead of sending every critter this side of Tarn scurrying away.

::Hard part? _Hard part_? Gimmie a gun and I'll show ya how _hard_ it is. This is _useless_ and even if those things exist, what's the fraggin' _chance_ of one bein' around!? And I'd leave before the temple goons got me." The clatter as Cliffjumper crossed the arms over his chestplates was thankfully not as loud as it could have been, but mostly because every single piston, cable and servo that could be stiff _was_.

::If we give you a gun it'll just scare whatever might be around away. And the priests would just send the word out and whatever temple you passed by would snap ya up and send you back. They put too much fraggin' importance on abilities and the connection of those who've got 'em to Primus to just, ya know, let you do as you want to. 'Course, it's a cushy life, so why I bothered bringing your _other_ qualities up in front of the Grandmaster, I don't know.:: Tying the rope off, Sideswipe tucked it away with a magnetic clip at his waist and picked up his rifle, changing his lazy lean to a crouch instead. ::And if there ain't any Blessed 'round here there ain't any and I guess you're outta luck, CJ.::

::Frag off. Do I look like a _priest_ to you? Playin' security is close enough to religious life for me, and I ain't gonna just _let 'em_ take me, whatever else happens!::

::Mechs, please.:: Hound finally sighed into the frequency, stationed on the opposite side of the valley from where Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were. ::There's _something_ more here than just mechanimals, but if it's just an oddly tuned EM field or not, I can't tell you. The recordings the archive had weren't very useful to pick up much of anything from, and while there's some faint trails that aren't turbofoxes or razorcats, they're well-smudged. Could be anything. Let's just hope the reports were correct.:: Hound didn't sound particularly eager for those reports _to be_ true, though, so why he added that, Cliffjumper wasn't sure.

Except to be nice, maybe, since currently Cliffjumper's continued state of not staying in a temple for the rest of his function and being unable to leave sort of hinged on some night-time protoform fantasy stories about the Blessed of Primus. Ethereally beautiful, their sparks capable of carrying the strain of another near them, meaning not just newspark creation beside the Matrix, but saving someone almost extinguished, and they were supposed to be capable of healing with nothing more than a touch - among other things.

The fact that they (supposedly) were capable of multiple abilities were what differentiated them from the rest of the population on Cybertron... if they even existed, that was.

Scowling, Cliffjumper shifted where he sat on the ground, hunched up and arms crossed as he glared at the tiny crystals sticking out between crackled metal around him - the beginnings of the reeds that towered up around him, or the trees further away. Fraggin' _believers_. Not that Cliffjumper didn't have some healthy respect and faith, but anything that involved religion on more than a personal level seemed to get intrusive in other people's _private lives and doings_.

Anyone with an "ability" was supposedly touched by Primus and were to be given over to the temples for training and "proper" living. Cliffjumper had avoided that so far by being careful and basically living right under the optics of a temple. Unfortunately he'd been careless half a solar cycle ago, at the target range. Shattering a target because the absolutely dirt-normal shot turned the target into something similar to glass wasn't very subtle, after all, but the fraggin' vain aft that went by Sunstreaker had distracted him.

Only the reports of a supposed Blessed being seen in the valleys south of the temple and the scramble of the priests to arrange a Hunt for it had distracted them from Cliffjumper. And then Sideswipe had fired up his glitching vocal processors and now they were _here_.

Here, in a gently inclining valley with undulating sides that grew up to the crystal tree decorated ridges, the suns now climbing beyond the top branches and sending glittering trails of light down into the valley and softening the chill of the air without chasing away the pleasant coolness.

Fraggin' overcharged confessions, which was why Sideswipe knew he hadn't interfaced in any way with anyone else before and could offer him up as "bait". Presumably the Blessed were attracted to mechs who hadn't interfaced before, but whether that was actually true or just a feature of the stories, _more than usual_ , who knew. 

Cliffjumper didn't believe there was any thrice-wrecked "Blessed" around here, or _anywhere_ on Cybertron or even the moons for that matter, and he'd just been humiliated in front of half the blasted temple because Sideswipe thought it'd be funny to offer him up as the bait for the Hunt. And he did feel exposed, just sitting around in the middle of the valley, having been pushed into getting everything polished up so that his red shone and the black absorbed the sunlight.

::I don't care if it scares whatever non-existing Blessed might be 'round here, I want a fraggin' gun.:: Not just because they'd made him give up all of the ones he usually carried with him, but also because - and he'd never admit to it - he was feeling nervous. On edge. It was silly and he wanted to go crack his helm against something because why was he feeling nervous, but there it was.

::If you don't sit down, runt, I'm gonna get you in the helm,:: Sunstreaker snarled over the comm., the flicker of a reflex from his rifle visible in the corner of Cliffjumper's field of vision, and he _knew_ the aft would do it, too.

::You wouldn't fraggin' _dare_!::

::Test me, runt.::

With a growl rattling his engine and vocaliser both, Cliffjumper sat down, glancing around the valley as he did so, but nothing had changed. The lilleths had spread out, bright spots of shimmering metal and sun-lit gas decorating the tops of the reeds, and the turbofoxes were laying in the shadows of the first few crystal trees on the opposite end of the valley, but there was nothing else around.

The suns slowly climbed higher, enough their light directly bounced off his armour and slid over the polished surface with warm fingers, the faint breeze following like cooling breath.

There was nothing here but a foolish expedition out on a hunt for something that didn't exist so a temple could perform certain rituals only something as close to Primus a Blessed (or the Prime, but the Prime was nearly as hard as a Blessed to borrow time from) could give the right connection and content to.

Absolutely nothing here.

Cliffjumper hunched up, hugging his knees and narrowing his optics as he sent quick glares around the peaceful, sunlit valley.

***

It was such an obvious trap he wasn't going to bother at first. But he was hardly afraid, and a good laugh was good for you, especially in the morning. So why not take a gander at who the poor, foolish sparks were who thought they could catch _him_. And maybe he was curious to see what they were using as bait.

Just a _little_ , but any old thing wouldn't be acceptable.

As he came closer, though, weaving carefully through the softly glowing crystal trunks, having set up his own little trap if it would be needed, he found that it was hard to resist and turn back to where he came from.

Curiosity had gotten him close enough for the subtle shift of energies to be read, a shifting swirl that wasn't yet set in a pattern that'd be laid down by age, but the pattern that would in the end be was suggested by the energies themselves, and it was ever so enticing.

Avoiding the tug of those delightful energies, he searched out the others first, and the first one of the group of his would-be "hunters" that he found cut a very nice profile indeed. Wide shoulders, strong lines and... hmmm, he had as much of an ability as anyone of these simple sparks could present, the evidence obvious in the pattern of his EM field. It was surprising to see such a spark here, and not claimed or tucked away in those buildings or compounds that were like blazing points of light, as repellent as they were attractive to one such as he.

They were traps, since the light of their sparks got intertwined with those bonfires, if they could just be trapped within the circle of light. It was similar to those who were still untouched, but didn't have the same draw, hence the enticing swirl of energies that were so ubiquitous as bait. But it wasn't _this mech_ \---

Oh. 

Surprise shot through him as the mech twitched, helm tilting momentarily and then he looked around... but he did, of course, miss his target. Impressive tracking skills, if he was able to _almost_ catch onto the fact that there actually was somebody else here. So curious that he'd remained outside the temples... Helm tilting himself, he took a careful step closer. It enabled him to reach out to trace the pattern of the EM field and read it, and so he could be close enough to catch the distant pulse of the spark thrumming away beneath that green chassis.

That explained it. He was old bait.

And so he carefully slipped away, wondering if the mech was proud of his once-achievement, or if the betrayal had left scars as he'd had to stare his prey in the optics and see the flare of shock and then the subsequent dimming of the fierce light within them as the temple stole it.

He found the other two on the opposite side of the valley, following the ridge around and avoiding the actual central depression for now - he wanted to know what he had against him first, even if it was hard to resist the gentle tug of those open energies against his own.

The next two were both pretty, their energy patterns open as well, and while he wondered if it was one of _these two_ , it quickly became apparent that no, it wasn't them. They might be young, but they couldn't be marked and claimed, their sparks already carrying the evidence of having touched someone else's, whoever it was that had gotten the privilege. 

He was pretty sure the twins had not done it for each other, because if that was the case they would have read as untouched and open, their sparks tied too closely together.

He was _almost_ disappointed, because being able to get a pair of twins... but ultimately, his interest was fleeting, despite the clean, sharp lines and their bold colours. There was no draw, and so he slipped past them like mist, taking amusement in his ability to prance around them once, twice, and run his fingers down the brightly yellow one's rifle.

So unaware it was hilarious.

The valley itself was beautiful, the reeds glowing with their trace amount of innate energon in the sunlight. They cast a pattern of light and shadow across the crackled, patterned valley floor, and when he took the last skip to set his stabilisers on the ground, he realised the mech in the center wasn't just sitting far away.

Something stirred around his spark at that realisation, wholly separate from the lure of sweet, untouched spark energies. 

He was _tiny_. A... minibot, he thought the planet-dwellers called them. Standing, the mech would maybe reach above his waist, but not much further.

Optics flaring, he stalked closer, stabilisers barely touching the ground and scattering a fine dusting at each step and he couldn't have stopped even if he _wanted to_.

The red and black was bold and bright, obviously polished, but polish couldn't have helped if the shades had been flat. But no, the red was delightfully vivid, and the black was deep and solid. The altmode kibble was more rounded than angled, a larger set of wheels on his lower legs and a smaller set partly hidden by his arms and under the shoulder guards, and there was an awkward lump of kibble on his back, but overall it didn't look _terrible_... in fact, it rather seemed to emphasis that there wasn't much else space for the altmode armour _to go_ , and then there was that strange little curl, like the threat of an electric storm, around his spark again.

Some sort of racer, even if he was tiny. That thought was pleasing, and while he was sure there were no traps here, he was still careful in getting closer, approaching in slowly narrowing spirals until he was close enough to get a proper read on the energies and could have reached a hand out and touched if he wanted to.

 _This_ was the origin of the energies he'd picked up. Slightly younger than the twins, which accounted for the bare suggestion of a pattern that would settle with age, the suggested pulse of spark energies bright and without so much as a flicker of disruption. Untouched, unmarked and...

Well.

He even had an ability, if that pattern in his EM field, similar but different to the first mech he'd scoped out due to the differences in abilities, was to be believed. It was difficult to keep the purr of his engine silenced.

Looking around again, it was also difficult not to laugh, because with such a perfect, _tiny_ , bait, it was surprising the trap was such an obvious one. A classic really, featured in more than one tale, but also one that was, contrary to said tales, the one most prone to failure. Optics sliding down the red mini's hunched frame, he noted no weapons, either in the mech's grasp or in a subspace, the pressure where the subspace generator was located indicating no strain, which really wouldn't help him unless he was stronger than he looked. Which he was pretty sure the mini wasn't (unless that was the real trap), because so tiny... he could easily overpower him and pick him up. He leaned forward and had to rock back as the mini suddenly unfolded, glaring around, but he didn't (of course) see anything.

Perfect bait, practically served on a platter, even with the would-be hunters nearby.

With a slight smirk flitting over his faceplates, he decided to let the hunters get what they wanted.

***

::Cliffjumper. Sit still.::

:: _What_?:: Of course, Hound's soft murmur, unexpected as it was, had Cliffjumper jerking upright. He'd _barely_ managed to not whip his helm around, so that was a small victory, he supposed. It wasn't hard to pick out what it was Hound had seen as figure moved into the edge of his vision and _he should have fragging insisted_ on a shock rifle of his own.

::Just sit there, _like you should_ , runt, and we'll have this done in a moment.::

Cliffjumper would like to insist it was just somebody from the nearby settlements that had wandered into the valley - it wasn't as if they'd closed the area off or anything, but even what little he could see, from the edge of his vision, didn't read like any identifiable altmode. Tensing as the mech came closer, long, delicate legs that ended in strangely cloven and small stabilisers, Cliffjumper wondered why the _frag_ he hadn't insisted more on a gun earlier. Or rope! He could have hidden either of that in his subspace!

Then there was the subtle snapping thrum of two shock rifle shots being fired from two different directions and they _should_ have hit, but _somehow_ the fragger _dodged_!? Dodged, and then ran, of course.

Swearing, Cliffjumper jumped up to his feet and whirled in the direction the strange-looking mech had gone. He'd sprinted up the sloping side of the valley like a turbofox and disappeared in among the crystal trees somewhere between the twins' and Hound's locations, but Cliffjumper hardly managed more than two steps himself before the comm. crackled.

::Just stay in the valley, CJ. You're too slow out of altmode, and even in altmode you're not small enough to be able to drive easily in the forest. Sit down and relax!:: Despite the distracted tone, Sideswipe's call was bright, and Cliffjumper swore, hands fisting at his sides.

"Fraggin' _pit_. First they don't let me have a rifle, have me sit around like some slaggin' _decoration_... humiliated enough for a _vorn_ and _now_..." hissing, Cliffjumper stomped back to the spot he'd been sitting in for the last half joor, mostly because he'd worn down a nice spot there more than anything else.

The turbofoxes and lilleths were gone now of course, having been scared away at the ruckus of the... mech... Blessed... _whatever_ appearing, being shot at and then running away, so why did it still feel like he wasn't _alone_? Armour tight against his frame, Cliffjumper glared around the valley, but all that was left was the sunlight pouring down from the rising suns and a faint, eastern breeze.

The sudden curl of a hand around his left arm, foreign metal warm and covering practically his whole lower arm had Cliffjumper reacting instinctively. 

"Gah!" The rev of his engine _almost_ covered his squawk as he twisted around and threw a punch just as the mech shimmered into view.

His fist met pale faceplates partially covered by a mask that didn't so much _hide_ the clean lines so much as they _emphasised them_ , and the clang was startlingly loud in the silent valley, the echo vibrating in the reeds. Golden optics widened with the slack surprise of somebody who just _couldn't believe_ that they'd just been punched.

Physically hit with a fist.

Physically hit _at all_.

Normally, Cliffjumper wouldn't be able to read just expression that easily, but it was so obvious here it was _hilarious_ and _normally_ , he'd also be laughing because _slag_ that expression. Laughter was the last on Cliffjumper's processor at the sight of the mech crouched next to him, practically looming.

Even sitting down, he was larger (though who the slag _wasn't_ ) with long, delicate angles and lines in his chestplates and arms, with elegant curves along his legs, jointed twice in an odd way he'd only ever seen on mechanimals, and in the armour that folded over his arms - probably altmode kibble, but Cliffjumper couldn't _tell_ what the frag the mech was supposed to be.

There was also a very prominent, long and elegantly spiralled piece of metal at one hip that couldn't be anything _but_ a weapon.

Despite that, it was hard to concentrate on it, because the mech's optics were burning, and his white seemed to glow and had a definitive iridescence to it and the blue looked like liquid metal with an inner sheen to it.

"Wh--- How the _frag_ did ya get here so fast?!" Cliffjumper finally hissed, tightening his hands into fists nervously, even if only one of them was even remotely useful right now. The slagger then _smiled_ and Cliffjumper almost punched him again on reflex because _why_ did that simple expression make his spark twist around itself?

When his hand was suddenly caught and gently but implacably turned around, Cliffjumper realised 'almost punched him' had been 'actually' except for the fact that this time the mech had been ready. Tensing, he yanked on his arm, but got nowhere and he didn't have the right leverage or angle to kick the stranger as he leaned over...

... and kissed the back of his hand!?

"I never left the valley, of course." Mirage couldn't resist a slow smile against the back of the hand he was holding, only needing to use three fingers and his thumb to encompass the whole of it. "They'll be chasing nothing for a good while, since there's tracks in the forest. My name is Mirage." Every word was carefully enunciated against the metal beneath his lips, and the EM field next to his _heaved_ as the mini made a noise that was mostly static and his fingers twitched.

"I _don't need 'em_!" Blustering bravado, laughable and impressive in the same stroke.

That was all he needed to hear because despite the incredulous offense he still felt at _having been punched_ (and stung pride at not having caught it before it could become a punch, was he so lacking?), the fire in those words was charming. And important, because bigger mechs more physically even with him had laid down limp when faced with what this mini was right now, too stunned for much of anything at first.

"You--- You're _not_..." There was still wary shock and disbelief in the mini's voice though, his optics narrowed and bright as he kept throwing glances at Mirage where he crouched next to him. The hand in his grip spasmed again, an insistent attempt at trying to free it, and Mirage kissed it again, peeked his tongue out to catch the texture and fine little nicks and dings that the polish hadn't been able to smooth away.

The EM field heaved at that, and then fluttered as the mini squawked and his optics flared, blushing from top to stabiliser. Mirage smiled as he glanced up into wide, bright blue optics.

"Blessed? One of the shadows of the moons? Heal-touch, spark-granter, invisible and invincible? Yes. I am. And you are..?"

"... Cliffjumper." Right after he muttered it, Cliffjumper's optics flickered and widened, as if he hadn't _planned_ on revealing it, and Mirage could bet he hadn't. And then those gray faceplates scrunched up and for an astrosecond, Mirage's spark pulse stuttered. If he hadn't decided it before, he certainly was decided _now_.

He'd have this one, and nothing would stop him. 

If he was lucky, he might even be able to convince Cliffjumper to _stay_ , and even if (or because of it) there were suggestions they'd probably clash a lot and grind against each other, the attempt seemed worth it. Trying to smooth out that defensive abrasiveness that manifested in violence seemed like a good idea, however.

"It's a good name," Mirage said as he carefully let go of the arm he'd been holding, trusting to how close he was and the angle to keep it where it was. Instead he used his now-free hand to trace out the not-really-visible seams in Cliffjumper's curving chestplates above the crescent of his windshield, watching the minuscule tremble that came with the caress.

"Oh, _mute it_ ," Cliffjumper hissed, optics narrowing but couldn't hide the underlying static that seemed to refuse to go away and that hand just _didn't leave_. It was also calling too much attention to the pulse of his spark, steady and bright behind the protective layers of metal, but the wiring around the spark chamber felt curiously prickly.

He had no idea what was going on anymore and knew he'd forgotten some important part of why Sideswipe had insisted _he_ should be bait. But whatever the fact was it kept slipping his processor for the curve of the mech's back as he sat, partly leaning over him, and the sharp line of the cleaning groove set into his cheek, highlighting the angle of the malar plate.

Sacrificing the added support of his hand on the ground, Cliffjumper shoved his free hand between the light, faintly charged touch of those long, elegant fingers and his red chestplates and he probably should just have _punched_ the slagger again because _what did he think he was playing at_!? Punching him might also wipe away that intent stare as well but it seemed like better protection to leave his hand where it was, covering the seams that would split apart to reveal his spark chamber.

"But it _is_." There was the flash of a grin that followed that statement and if he followed that up with some stupid joke about Cliffjumper being too short to be able to clear most distances that might be needed for actual _cliff jumping_ he didn't _care_ who the mech was, he'd shove him to the ground and then get up and kick him.

Before he'd had the chance to do more than engage his vocal processors and open his mouth though, the mech... Blessed... Mirage? slid his hand upward, following the curve of a headlight-inset shoulderguard and up to his helm. His hand seemed to be _made_ to fit the curved side of it, three of his fingers against the audial vents and his thumb between the edge of the front and a sensory horn, not _quite_ touching it.

It was that almost touch more than the actual, gentle scrape of fingers against metal that sent sparks down his circuits, and Cliffjumper squirmed, sputtered and drew himself up as far as possible - even crouching, that still only meant the top of his helm came level with Mirage's chin.

" _Whatever_. Shouldn't you get out while you _can_ , or do ya actually _want_ to get caught?" This was stupid and foolish and why the _frag_ would anyone be 'enchanted' by a virgin anyway (oh, right, that was what he'd forgotten before)? It wasn't as if having shared your spark with anyone actually _meant anything_ for the quality of it until you actually _bonded_.

It was just a load of slag and flux dust, and while Cliffjumper wasn't sure why he was _angry_ , he grabbed onto it with everything he had because it was better than sitting here blushing underneath that glowing stare and the slight, gentle curve of Mirage's mouth.

The slagger was just teasing him and making a (deservedly) fool out of the twins and Hound.

Glitches, the lot of them!

"I don't intent to linger long enough for my would-be hunters to realise their prey is nothing but illusions and finely laid tracks to bewilder them, because no, I am not that generous enough to _want_ the silvered chains of your temples, but I can't leave _quite_ yet."

Engine underscoring his huff, Cliffjumper yanked on his trapped hand. It wasn't, predictably enough, let go, so instead he slapped the other one against the curve of armour glass set into the center of Mirage's chestplates. It was a faintly glowing - and strangely warm - out-of-place suggestion of a windshield or cockpit that was just contrary to the rest of his altmode, whatever it was.

"This ain't fraggin' funny anymore, and you should be _thankful_ I haven't tried to see if they're in comm. range to call them back!" Snarling, Cliffjumper gave the warm armour glass beneath his hand another shove, but Mirage didn't so much as sway back, and it called attention to how much of the glass his hand _wasn't_ covering compared to Mirage's hand against his helm. "So just _leave_!"

"You're a very angry little minibot, you know that?" Mirage said with a sigh and tightened the grip on the hand he still had trapped, thumb stroking over the back of it and pushing against the wrist gap. Cliffjumper twitched and scowled, ignoring the waver of his EM field. "And I already told you, I can't leave _just yet_. Not with _you_ right here."

"The _slag_ ya can't..." Cliffjumper trailed off as Mirage's glowing golden optics caught his and it should be easy to look away, but for some reason it _wasn't_. It was distracting enough that he didn't catch on to the changed grip on his helm before Mirage had already tilted it back, thumb under his jaw and so very close to thin plating and vulnerable fuel lines. The heavy swirl of Mirage's EM field, humming with more energy than what should be logical for a mech of Mirage's size, flexed and expanded to flare around them both as Mirage leaned down.

"Gh---" Whatever he'd intended to say, Cliffjumper didn't even know and maybe it didn't matter either as soft, clever lips slid against his and the tongue followed quickly after, a blue crackle of static chased up that shot right from the sensitive metal and sensor nodes in his mouth down along the wiring in his protoform to curl around his spark, and he...

The fingertips of two of Mirage's fingers were warm against his neck where they were wedged under the edge of his helm, keeping it angled _just right_ , and the two longest fingers were pressing against the angled join of his sensory horn and helm, the whole expanse between back and front of the helm easily encompassed by Mirage hand.

If he'd intended a shove or a punch with the hand on Mirage's chestplate as it flexed, it didn't happen, and his other hand, free as Mirage slid that arm around his waist and curled it around a bare hip joint, tentatively just rested on shimmering white armour.

He should be doing something _else_ , most assuredly, but this was _nothing_ like that stumbling, tentative kiss he'd shared with Bumblebee and---

::Cliffjumper! _Don't_ leave that valley!::

Startled, Cliffjumper jerked and bashed the fronts of their helms together, catching part of Mirage's nasal ridge.

"Wha--" Realising he'd said that out loud, half lost in static while the pressure on his helm was gone as Mirage rubbed his faceplates and he should probably apologise, Cliffjumper belatedly switched to comm.

::What?::

::Don't leave the valley, for _whatever_ reason. Do whatever you have to do, but _don't leave it_.:: Hound sounded intent, _desperate_ almost, and while he knew they... right, they had a job to do, he wasn't sure it warranted _that_ sort of intensity. _He_ technically had more to lose than Hound and the twins had if they didn't catch the Blessed of Primus that clearly _was_ around here.

Right here kissing him dumb, in fact.

"Your friends noticed they were chasing nothing but moon-mist?" Mirage, despite the dent in his cheek from the first punch Cliffjumper had thrown and the added nick on the side of his nasal ridge, sounded amused. Cliffjumper, distracted, glanced up and nodded.

"Uh... yeah, they--- Wait." A flush of charge flashed through him and he wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or anger at having just _revealed_ what he probably shouldn't and he squirmed half back on his hands, pretty sure he'd do better at getting free if he used his legs.

"You're a delight, Cliffjumper." Mirage laughed, like sunlight on silver, and it was _honestly meant_ and Cliffjumper blushed with one leg raised to pull it back and kick the suns-haloed vision of iridescence crouched over him.

:: _Cliffjumper_!:: Hound snapped, honestly _snapped_ over the frequency and Cliffjumper glanced past Mirage to the ridge behind him, but they weren't there yet and suddenly there was an arm underneath his knees and the hand at his waist slid up to the base of his trunk kibble and Mirage stood up, _taking Cliffjumper with him_.

"Wha--- _Let go_!" Flailing with the arm not caught between his side and Mirage's frame, Cliffjumper squirmed, all too aware of the fact that there was now more than his own height in distance between the ground and him where he was in Mirage's arms. It wasn't technically all that far, but he didn't have _control of it_.

"Shh." Lips dropped against the top of his helm and while that sent a tickling starburst of sensation skittering along his sensory net, it was hardly enough to _settle him_ , though when Mirage's EM field flexed out again, heavy and warm, it strangely felt less like he had air beneath him. "This won't take long."

" _What_ won't take long?" Cliffjumper hissed and tried to squirm out of the grip - sure, the kiss had been nice and Mirage's hands were large and sure but like _frag_ he was going _anywhere_! Mirage didn't answer though and just as Hound and the twins barreled out of the forest on the edge of the valley, the world sort of twisted into a crystal quality and Mirage began to run.

His protest died somewhere between his vocal processor and his mouth as the wind slapped against him and he instinctively curled up, clutching at the smooth and still warm armour glass of Mirage's... cockpit? whatever it was and scrunched his faceplates up. He could yell at the glitch, but that didn't seem possible right now, not with the wind.

He didn't like just staying where he was, placidly curled up against Mirage's chassis like he _fit there_ , but his legs were too short to really reach anything to kick, and the wind flattened him against the warm metal beneath him.

It couldn't have been more than a few kilks later that the unforgiving pressure just _stopped_ \- there was still wind, a drawn-out moan that was faintly familiar, but it was nothing of just a moment ago. Cautiously, Cliffjumper onlined his optics and looked around.

"... The... Wh--- How in the blasted _frag_ could ya get us to the _opposite end_ of the slaggin' continent so fast!?" Yelling as he squirmed and pushed, this time he was actually let down on the ground with no attempt to keep him in place and he staggered a few steps away, staring.

The temple he and the others were currently attached to were some hics away from the continental edge that faced Nova Cronum, the constant wind that shrieked up from the depths distant there but still suggested whenever the breeze came from the east. Now, they were on the opposite end of the greater Iacon continent, merely a few framelengths away from the abyss-edge of the gap between Iacon and Uraya. Reeds dotted the flat plain, centered around shallow hollows of liquid energon.

"Simple. I ran."

Whirling around, Cliffjumper couldn't do more than sputter at first, then threw his arms out to indicate their surroundings and then pointed at Mirage.

"You _ran_? Nobody slaggin' runs that fast!"

Mirage stepped up in front of him, and Cliffjumper almost _skipped_ backwards a few steps, but he wasn't grabbed. In fact, Mirage dropped to his knees, brilliant optics wide and earnest and the midday sunlight gilding his opalescent white and vivid blue.

"I might have used the field harmonics of the reeds to give me a boost, but I needed some extra _time_ , and since we were about to be interrupted. And I _do_ have no intention of being caught... You shall have to forgive me my arbitrary conduct with your person, Cliffjumper."

" _I_ have to---" The earlier shy brightness teased out by the gentle hands and rather dumbfounding kiss evaporated, because Cliffjumper was suddenly very aware that he hardly had much of a chance of trapping Mirage himself - though the thought made something twist, low beneath his spark chamber and what fuel he had in his tank rumbled. 

It didn't seem right to do that, even (especially) now. 

But at the same time that'd just mean _he_ would be just as trapped, because being on the opposite end of the continent, slag, the _planet_ wouldn't protect him from the temples wanting to claim what they (and a great part of society) considered their due. " _Fine_! Whatever. Get the slag outta here then, but you didn't have to strand _me_ here!"

What had been the _point_ of all this, anyway?

"Cliffjumper. _Please_." Mirage held his hands out, palms up. Cliffjumper stared at them, up at Mirage's pale, shimmering faceplates and the blue mask that covered the upper part, accentuating the gentle, generous curve of his lips and the sharp angles of his cheeks. Slowly, dragging his feet over the uneven ground, Cliffjumper slunk closer and hesitantly laid his hands on the offered palms.

They closed like silicon-flake flowers, curling around his hands and why did he do this for? Mirage's hands were much larger than his and like this, since the mech had proven stronger than his frame and size suggested on the average, Cliffjumper was stuck.

"Besides the fact that your energies are like a beacon which I couldn't deny even if I wanted to, even less now than before I came close enough to touch, I find myself... ah, against better judgment it seems, quite enchanted." Mirage smirked and Cliffjumper huffed, trying to hide the blush and unable to. The frag did the glitch get off being able to just... _do that_?

"... So, what. It's _actually true_ you're... uh..." He tried to gesture with his hands, found them stuck, and gave Mirage a grimace which was merely returned with a smile that sent charge flickering down his circuits and then he just twitched his helm.

"That the Blessed can't resist those who haven't engaged in spark interface? Yes. It's there to assist us finding what we need, but it's really annoyingly _strong_ sometimes." Mirage shrugged, the open reaction surprisingly simple from what Cliffjumper had seen of Mirage so far. He didn't _want_ to like it, but he sort of did. 

"I don't mind. Not when it leads me to something like _this_." Mirage squeezed his hands, and Cliffjumper huffed again, looking away. Mirage took the chance to lean in at the same time as he pulled Cliffjumper closer, ignoring hiss of protest as their chestplates clattered together. "I would like the honour of sharing energies with you."

He probably shouldn't enjoy the distorted flare of Cliffjumper's EM field as it jangled past his and the mini's engine sort of skipped a cycle and his optics flared, but the reaction was so _open_... And this close, the flickering light of Cliffjumper's spark even hidden by his chassis, was bright against him.

"Wh--- You... Just 'cause ya _have to_... I'm sure there's other ways you clean leave by! Gotta be, ya know---" Cliffjumper's angry fluster was like a supernova right in front of him, and Mirage grinned and kissed the side of the closest sensory horn, the barest of lilleth wing-beat brushes that yet had the mini squirming against him.

"I would _like to_. And there are ways, though they can't be done here, but I'd like the chance... to show you other things, before we try that. If you would still want to, however..." Tilting his helm, Mirage sat back on his stabilisers and watched Cliffjumper fight with himself. He carefully kept the only touch to their intertwined hands, listening to the wail from the wind as it escaped the deep abyss beyond them and finally...

"... Fine. What'd ya mean can't be done _here_ though?" The question was accompanied by that scrunch of his faceplates, and Mirage smiled, raised their joined hands and kissed the back of Cliffjumper's before he let go and stepped away.

"I'll show you."

Cliffjumper, who'd been rubbing his hands as if he wasn't sure what he thought of the continued kisses dropped on them, looked up at that. His vivid optics slightly widened in a completely unaware way that, like the way he scrunched his faceplates up, was utterly adorable. With a grin and a little bow, one leg sweeping behind him and an arm in front of him that teased out a reluctant grin from Cliffjumper, Mirage transformed.

It was a simple transformation, but all the more elegant for that. No great contortions as he bent forwards, the front legs that extended from his shoulders and down his arms unfolding and slotting in place, the neck armour folding out and extending from where it had been slotted against his shoulders and as a collar, and the head flipping forward from his back.

Altmode optics onlining, Mirage took in a world highlighted by its energies in a way that was only ever suggested while he was in root mode. They were now bursting around him in their own rainbows, and he took a moment to enjoy them and felt his own light expand outwards in reaction. Cliffjumper, when he turned his head that way, was wreathed in a corona of blue fire, a perfect match for his optics, the fire lightening to bright spark light at his core.

It wasn't his actual spark or spark light that Mirage was seeing, of course, but as tied to it as the EM field was tied to the chassis. It was a visual representation of what he was, every single line of code from his being a minibot to the shape of his sensory horns, if you knew how to look. In time, that flame would smooth out, settle in the pattern that was suggested in the way the the fiery swirls moved, but for now it was open and bright.

And flared towards him as he took a step or two closer, reacting to his presence - and with how Cliffjumper's optics widened and he took a step back, he'd noticed it as well.

"Don't worry about it, Cliffjumper. You won't react in the same way I do to _you_."

"And that's just _so fraggin' comfortin'_ too," Cliffjumper muttered as he eyed the powerful but sleek creature slowly come closer with every neat little step, an approach that suddenly turned slower as Mirage apparently caught him staring. But why _wouldn't_ he? He'd never seen anything like that, altmode or as a real mechanimal! Mirage then had the temerity to laugh at him (or he assumed the nicker was laughter), and Cliffjumper grimaced, which just spurred more of it.

The arched neck slowly stretched out as Mirage stopped, reaching for him only by the delicately lined little head. The most prominent feature were the big, liquid-like gold optics, and a slightly backwards-arching, spiralled horn extending from the forehead - what had been Mirage's weapon in root mode. It was a wicked thing that the sunlight seemed to lovingly run off around each delicate little swirl around itself, alternately iridescent white and blue, and as Mirage's muzzle lightly bumped into his cheek, Cliffjumper could feel the humming that came from the horn.

Tentatively raising a hand, he traced out the curve of a cheek and then further, following the swooping lines of interlocking armour that made up the neck. Like this, Mirage was mostly white, and seemed to glow in the sunlight. There were spots of blue, however, mostly on his legs and the delicately cloven hooves. Parts of the horn, of course, as well as a little triangular extension that thrust out from Mirage's behind. From that streamed a brilliant, whitish-gold plume of energy that danced in the sunlight and left a glowing trail behind Mirage.

He was beautiful, ethereal even, much like his root mode had been, but in a way that was far more incomprehensible. Because there was something that just made Cliffjumper want to stay right next to Mirage like this and that hadn't happened while Mirage had been cybertronian shaped. He didn't like that at all and the only reason he didn't push away from the glittering vision was---

" _Mirage_!" Squawking, Cliffjumper stumbled back and rubbed his horn, which was still buzzing with static. The--- the glitch had _licked it_. "You... _ugh_." Giving the smug creature a glare, Cliffjumper took another few steps back as Mirage tried to get closer again, and then realised there was no more ground behind him.

Wind rushed along his back in a whining, multi-pitched complaint, and there was no ground to see, merely shadows deepening the further down the continental gap went. In the distance, obscured by flux-mist and sunlight, was Uraya.

"I only wanted to see what it tasted like. You look brilliant like this, you know." Mirage stopped partly in front of him, stretching his neck out to reach around him. Cliffjumper wouldn't admit to feeling relieved when Mirage used the movement to push against his back with his head and horn, which, while it got him at least a step away from the edge, forced him closer to Mirage again.

"You're _delusional_ ," Cliffjumper said with a little scowl, but even if unease was curling along his wiring, he was curious. Curious enough to reach out again and run his fingers along the slightly curving back, even if he had to stretch up to do so. "Was this what you were gonna show me, or what?" Because while it was pretty cool, it didn't seem to have anything to do with what Mirage had said before about 'other ways that couldn't be done here'.

"Not _only_." And then Mirage knelt down, legs folding beneath him and his neck arching as he sent a side-long little glance to Cliffjumper. "Did you know that being allowed on the back of a shadow of the moon means you're granted immortality?"

"Yeah, _right_." Scoffing, Cliffjumper still reached out and laid his hand on Mirage's warm back and Mirage stayed perfectly still even if he nickered, clearly amused.

He shouldn't. He _probably_ shouldn't, but if he tried to walk away he'd probably have Mirage follow him for however long, and that would just be _annoying_ \- and then the mech would get caught and... With a huff and a roll of his optics, he clambered up on Mirage's back. Warmth hummed up from the metal underneath him, and Mirage sort of _shuddered_ and let out a long vent and then stood up, leaving Cliffjumper to scramble to clutch at his neck, fingers catching in the gaps between plates of armour.

"A little _warning_ next time!" Shifting around, Cliffjumper felt rather awkward where he was sitting, arms stretched out because he was _too fragging short_ for this.

"Lean forward and hold on, Cliffjumper. I need to run."

"Wha---GAH!" 

Mirage suddenly _reared_ , tossing his head back and catching a glittering lance of light on his horn, Cliffjumper sliding in his seat and then slamming down, chin catching on Mirage's neck with a crack that reverberated through his protoform. This time when he found some gaps to grasp and pulled his knees in, he stayed there, more or less reclining over Mirage's back and neck as the Blessed literally tossed himself sideways, hooves meeting the ground running.

White fire was flaring up from Mirage's hooves at every step after three great leaps, twisting opalescent before it dispersed around Cliffjumper, the ground a blur beneath them and the continental cliff to the right a twisting interplay of light and shadow before Mirage took another leap.

To the right.

" _Mirage_!" Cliffjumper would _never_ admit to the noise he made as he hunched up and offlined his optics, but when nothing happened, he cautiously onlined them again, for the second time in short order.

They weren't falling.

In fact, the ground was further beneath them than it logically should be after taking a great big leap out into a fragging _abyss_...

"I wouldn't take you to your doom, Cliffjumper. What would be the point in _that_ when I wish to feel you opening beneath me?"

Cliffjumper was torn between angrily yelling and Mirage and sputtering as he blushed, field and optics alike flaring and heat pooling along his wiring.

They were fragging flying in no way Cliffjumper could discern, great gouts of iridescent white fire around them, and Mirage was... um, was... _coming on to him_.

"... Where're we even _goin'_?" Waiting until he could be sure his vocal processor wouldn't glitch out on him, Cliffjumper clutched at Mirage's neck and sides as if his function depended on it (undoubtedly it did), and stared down. Down beneath them, where Cybertron's surface was slowly but definitely shrinking, the horizon going from flat to curving and the pale yellow darkening with each great leap into burnished gold and---

"Shh. Let your systems do their job, Cliffjumper, overheating could still happen out here, but the cold won't get to you. And to the moons, of course."

The reminder jolted Cliffjumper into releasing the vent he'd trapped, the hot waste air being torn away as soon as he opened his closed vents. Reluctantly, Cliffjumper tore his gaze away from the steadily shrinking curve of Cybertron to above them instead.

The sky was already obsidian-black around them, the stars bright, the suns behind them and, as Mirage said, one of the moons right in their path above and in front of them.

"The moons. Of course."

This was ridiculous and strange and utterly slagging _glitched_ , but it seemed to be happening anyway, and the strange thing was, he felt safe. Even with _somehow_ sitting on the back of a _Blessed of Primus_ , who was running through space like it was a blasted Polyhexian racetrack, towards one of the moons. The moons, which no one could land on, due to some form of forcefield that surrounded them, which teased the moons' bountiful promise through a pale, shimmering shield.

A shield which now let them through with no issue at all, though the white, opalescent fire died the second they cleared the field, though Cliffjumper's protest stopped before it got anywhere. Instead of abruptly falling to the ground, they floated down like they were being carried on a breeze that couldn't be felt, and Mirage's hooves touched down with the same gentleness he'd kissed the back of Cliffjumper's hand with.

Cliffjumper slid off Mirage's back before the mech could do anything else than take more than a step after he landed, stumbling away and patting himself down. Behind him, Mirage let out a static sigh.

"We're not quite where we need to be, yet."

"No!" Whirling around, he stabbed a finger in Mirage's direction. "Wherever we're goin', I'm _walking_!" Cliffjumper crossed his arms over his chestplates and scowled as Mirage stalked closer with long, even steps and reached down to bump his head against Cliffjumper's faceplates.

"Cliffjumper."

"No." Hissing, he dug his heels in and tightened his arms against his chestplates, turning his helm away to avoid that shimmering golden stare. After nearly a full klik, there was another gusty static sigh.

"... All right. This way, then," Mirage said, the tip of his horn sliding off the tops of Cliffjumper's sensory horns as he turned away, and Cliffjumper twitched, biting his lower lip at the bright shot of sensation that barreled through him. His sensory horns weren't _that_ sensitive, not without him manually dialling that sensitivity up, but somehow that didn't seem to matter when it came to Mirage.

Realising Mirage was already several framelengths away, light sliding off his curving form and scattering into the mist that clung to the ground, Cliffjumper stared, optics flickering, and then scrambled after.

The ground was interlocking plates of pale silver, set in patterns that Cliffjumper couldn't catch from walking over them - too close - mist hovering around them up to Cliffjumper's knee joints and sending rainbow shimmers racing along the ground. Delicate crystal reeds that stood in bunches and twisted around each other to create a sort of tree were scattered around them, and soon it was obvious they were walking along a lane edged with said reed 'trees'. In the distance, great pools filled with something gold that glowed were scattered about, and at the edges of the pools buildings rose, delicate twists of crystal and pale metal in various colours.

It was enough to make his optics ache, all this gentle brightness, but maybe it was a matter of getting used to it.

They broke off from the road to follow a path of chiming rocks set into the ground, and Cliffjumper was soon skipping from one rock to the other, nose scrunched as he concentrated - and then looked up, into golden optics. Embarrassed, he stepped off the path and walked beside it, having to fight the twisting reed-trees for space but that was better than the glowing amusement in Mirage's optics.

"Here."

Looking up, Cliffjumper admitted it was... pretty? Everything was so slagging pretty here, it was making him uncomfortable. The path opened up into a perfectly circular depression with a lake in the center, filled with whatever that glowing gold liquid was, the reed trees and low, tangled bushes of langton's loopbrush fencing the space in. By the lake an open pavilion sat, light-features in the shape of Cybertron and its moons dangling from the angled eaves where each piece that made up the hexagonal roof met. Off to the side was a seating arrangement, though Cliffjumper's attention was admittedly more drawn by the decanter of energon than anything else.

The hand at his back, resting against the bottom curve of his trunk kibble, startled him, but he let Mirage - when had the mech transformed? - push him onwards. Dropping down into the nearest seat, Cliffjumper scrubbed at his faceplates.

What the slag was even going _on_ anymore?

What was the point, and why hadn't he just left, or demanded they do whatever the other thing was so Mirage wouldn't be all stuck on him or _whatever_ , because really, why _would_ he even be---

The wide, shallow bowl of energon suddenly in front of him scattered his thoughts, and there was the embarrassingly loud noise of the valve at the back of his mouth opening before he even _reached_ for the bowl. Mirage, as he sat down beside Cliffjumper, either hadn't heard it or was pretending not to, but Cliffjumper ended up staring as he watched Mirage lift an implement and use it to transfer the energon from bowl to his mouth.

... What the... 

Scowling at the bowl in front of him, he snagged up both bowl and tool, and realised it was similar to what those thin-plated nobles and priests used to eat their energon with. With an annoyed sigh and a grip only vaguely used to the spoon, Cliffjumper hunched down in his seat with a grumble. He wished he could just gulp the whole thing down as usual, but since Mirage was probably the only way he had of getting _back_ , being rude was probably a bad idea.

It was a good thing Mirage could hide his amusement behind both bowl and spoon, because it turned out to be _highly necessary_. Firstly, the spoon was too large for Cliffjumper; it was designed for those of more average size, so the grip wasn't precisely right in the mini's smaller hands. That caused probably ill-advised bright amusement and a curl of charge around his wiring. Secondly, Mirage had seen many sort of reactions to being presented with a spoon by those not used to it; protoforms tended to be confused and a little clumsy at first, but usually took to it quickly. Fully upgraded mechs who weren't priests from Cliffjumper's age and beyond tended to feign being unconcerned at having to use an _implement_ to consume their energon... Cliffjumper was sitting there, faceplates twisted in stark annoyance and offense, movement snappy as he seemed to go through the bowl with the determination of someone deeply frustrated.

It was absolutely hilarious, but Mirage had to give him points for even going along with it - and either way, the energon was doing its job. Cliffjumper had been tense before, not _just_ from being snatched away and having a rather spectacular ride if Mirage could say so himself, but also because he was obviously slowly edging towards running on fumes.

As the energon slowly disappeared, Cliffjumper relaxed a little, the sharp angle of his headlight-inset shoulderguards falling to a more natural - if still wary - angle and the slight pinch around his optics smoothing out. It didn't do anything for his annoyance, of course, but Mirage didn't mind _that_.

Cliffjumper relaxing also meant the energies came through clearer again, even if they'd been sweetly bright from the moment they'd passed the barrier around Beta Moon as Cybertron's various energies and materials stopped interfering. It was hard to concentrate on eating however, even out of altmode because here on the moon, it was easier to pick up energies... And Cliffjumper could've been a hic away and he'd be able to get a perfect sense of his energies.

Others were too, Mirage noted, optics narrowing as he saw a shadow slink around the bushes up to the left. Hand briefly on the hilt of his horn and helm tilting, the silver-edged shadow darted away. They would just _dare_ to try. Not that he could exactly _fault_ the interest, he thought as he glanced down again, feeling the burning twirl of untouched, lightning-pure spark energies just out of reach---

" _What_?" Spoon caught between bowl and mouth as Cliffjumper looked up and caught Mirage looking at him, those bright optics narrowed and his EM field pushed out, needlessly aggressive. Mirage carefully kept his own field just beyond the sharp curl of Cliffjumper's and couldn't resist reaching out, a bare caress of one finger down the flat of Cliffjumper's cheek. The field wavered and Cliffjumper nearly lost the grip on the spoon, but caught it before it fell.

"Nothing. A moment..." If he didn't step away for a moment he would practically assault the mini right then and there, and _that_ would just be _crude_. Not to speak of unbecoming. He was not a mechanimal, after all! 

He could feel Cliffjumper's stare at his back as he crossed the little meadow and rounded the gazebo, setting his hips swinging more than was necessary right before he disappeared from Cliffjumper's view and was rewarded by a muffled noise and what sounded like a dive back into the bowl with scrambled gusto. Yes, behaving like an uncultured planet-dweller for what he had sitting on the bench there wouldn't do at all.

It didn't take long to find what he was looking for on the shore of the lake, in the shadow of the steps from the gazebo down into liquid itself; electro-charge flowers. Tiny things, they were collections of slender cables into petals, the center and the delicately twisted cables charged brightly white-blue. The electric storm two days ago had charged them well, and they were still in full bloom, enough so that they stung slightly as he touched them, working quickly.

Satisfied with his work, Mirage wandered back to the seating area, Cliffjumper frowning at him as he approached.

"What'd ya go back there for?"

So _suspicious_. Mirage just smirked though, and quickly settled the flower crown on top of Cliffjumper's helm, the horns helping to hold it in place. The reaction was instantaneous, and amusing. Cliffjumper attempted to look up, shaking his helm as the charge from the flowers pushed gently against his horns, then scowled and felt around his helm, the expression deepening as he found out what it was.

" _Flowers_? What'd I look like, a buffed-up noble or somethin'?"

Taking ahold of Cliffjumper's hands before the mini could ruin the crown, Mirage squeezed them and waited until Cliffjumper looked up at him, and then smiled. It didn't take long for the narrow look to soften into the beginnings of Cliffjumper clearly feeling flustered, and Mirage didn't intend to _stop_.

"No, but they match your optics, and you look cute."

Cliffjumper's optics widened and flared, then settled into a narrow stare again as he battled the blush away and glanced to the side.

"I'm not---" The protest dissolved into static when Mirage bent down and caught his lips in another kiss. Static prickled his tongue as he pushed past no resistance beyond a noise that curled along the thin metal in their mouths, and clumsy or not, Cliffjumper was a fairly fast study. And clearly trying to keep up, despite the squirming Mirage could feel under his hands as he stroked up Cliffjumper's arms and curled them around the metal right underneath the shoulderguards, thumbs pressing into the joints there.

This close, it was like he could taste the charged sweetness of those untouched energies and it took all the willpower he had to merely kneel on the ground to spare his joints rather than continue down and push Cliffjumper to the ground. There were hands at his elbow joints, able to squeeze down into the workings in a way larger hands wouldn't be, though Cliffjumper wasn't really _trying_ to do that. In fact...

Sitting back on his stabilisers, Mirage studied the wide, almost too-bright optics and the flickering twirl of the field he'd embraced with his own as Cliffjumper attempted to find some form of words while his vocal processor worked on empty. No real resistance there, merely shyness Cliffjumper would probably never admit to, confusion and a nearly _aggressively defensive_ innocence that called to Mirage like a lightning rod attracted lightning.

"If you really don't want this to go further, Cliffjumper, I would advise you to say so now, and we will rectify this situation in another way, as I indicated planet-side," Mirage paused and then sighed, "not that I won't stop should you retract your consent later, too."

Cliffjumper stared. He hadn't really expected that. Glanced to the side, hands fisting at his sides as he let go of Mirage's arms, then took a step back. Mirage let go of his upper arms to give him the distance.

What did he want to do?

Did he... could he...

He wasn't sure if the flare of charge that jolted through him, from spark down along his protoform to low in his abdomen and then back up, was embarrassment at the image that suddenly came to mind, or if it was arousal. Was that how it felt? He sort of just felt uncomfortable and annoyed and the electro-charge flowers and their buzzing were stark against his horns and---

Gritting his teeth, Cliffjumper looked back at Mirage, annoyed and frustrated and still not sure, but the mech seemed to glow in the indistinct light, his pale faceplates highlighted by the darker mask and his golden optics were bright.

"Okay." Was that what he'd intended to say? Cliffjumper was pretty sure it was, even if everything suddenly felt tense.

"The gazebo," Mirage said and nodded to indicate the open-sided building behind Cliffjumper, the walls only reaching partway to the ceiling, basically Cliffjumper's height, and the rest covered by rich blue metal-mesh drapery.

"Uh... okay?" He wasn't sure why the pavilion was better than anywhere else in the clearing, even if it was a building, but he turned towards it, and took a few steps. The feeling of being _stared at_ had him look back though and the look on Mirage's faceplates froze him for a moment. There wasn't anything really _threatening_ there, more just... intense.

Intense and, like when Mirage had transformed, showing his altmode, he could feel some faint sort of... tug. Not a great one but it still caused him to keep an optic on the mech as he took a step backwards and Mirage slowly stepped after him, in perfect synch. He took another step back, and Mirage took one forwards at the same time, and while it made him _nervous_ , it still didn't feel threatening. It probably should have, but the situation reminded him more of a protoform leading their tame turbofox or photovoltaic cat on a leash rather than a razorcat stalking prey.

He'd probably have snickered about it, but there was a tight knot around his spark chamber and he still couldn't pull his optics away. He managed surprisingly well to slowly walk backwards though, even the steps up into the gazebo weren't much of a problem. Then, however, there was a sudden lack of solid flooring beneath his feet and he fell backwards with a squawk, bracing for impact---

On a thick, charge-conductive recharge mattress, apparently.

Most of the gazebo's interior was taken up by a berth set into the floor, and Cliffjumper felt heat flash through him at the realisation and _maybe_ this had been a bad idea anyway - soft laughter disrupted his thought, and Cliffjumper glared at Mirage as _he_ took a perfectly prepared step down onto the mattress, sinking to his knees.

"Yeah, _very funny_. You could've _warned me_..." Cliffjumper muttered, eying Mirage as the mech reached out and then cradled the sides of his helm in his hands, tilting it up. "Uh---" His optics flared, and then he squinted in confusion as merely the front of their helms, Mirage's crest against the smooth curve of his, were rubbed together. Though even that simple movement created a low pressure and a slowly spreading tingle that caught on the electro-charge flowers' field and twirled along his horns.

"But that wouldn't have been _nearly_ as amusing. Awareness of your surroundings is more than a good idea, Cliffjumper." Mirage changed angle then and kissed him instead, and Cliffjumper thought it _shouldn't_ feel like it was the first time again, but it _did_. The static grew into warm charge that spread in a fine web along his circuits and wiring as their tongues tangled. The charge bloomed as Mirage stroked his thumbs along the straight grooves in his cheeks, then rubbed the angled jaw below and back up, the tips of his thumbs digging into the grooves.

He wasn't sure what to do with his own hands, but when he suddenly had Mirage's weight pushing him backwards, Cliffjumper protested, hands pushing against the mattress and then digging in, stopping the backwards lean. Mirage drew back, and kissed along the right groove in his cheek.

" _Relax_ , Cliffjumper. You don't have to do anything, at all, or that you don't want to," Mirage murmured as his lips slid upwards along the rounded edge of the side of Cliffjumper's helm, the words vibrating against the metal and sending bright bursts through his sensory net.

"That's easy for _you_ to say--!" The last went up in several pitches and fuzzed into static as after Mirage had blown into the flowers, he _slagging licked_ the right horn from base to tip, and then dragged his teeth gently over the flat top. His lips went down around it, and the other horn had a thumb rubbing each angled side in turn, and Cliffjumper was left shuddering against Mirage, and trying very, very hard to...

Another gentle bite, and a pinch to the other horn, and the moan slipped out and the resistance in his arms disappeared as every component apparently turned into liquid. It wasn't until he onlined his optics and squinted at Mirage's chestplates, which were now _above_ instead of _in front of_ him, that he realised he was lying down, however. Mirage had probably carefully lowered them down instead of letting him just drop back - the thought was fleeting as charge crackled down into his protoform as Mirage changed horns for his mouth and twirled his tongue around the other horn, rubbing his palm over the now-bared one.

Reaching blindly, Cliffjumper caught his fingers in the gaps of armour that partly hid Mirage's hip joints and wriggled them deeper in, pushing against the workings to make them grind against themselves, and the shudder of Mirage's lean frame was... surprisingly rewarding to realise he'd caused.

"Come here."

Mirage abandoned his horns with what seemed like a pop of static that left Cliffjumper with a whine escaping and had his hands snagged. Each finger was given a kiss and Cliffjumper rolled his optics, huffing at the smile he could feel against his hands. The tongue briefly probing the little joints and cables in his wrist caused a tickling cascade that had him hissing at Mirage to stop and try to jerk his hands away, though.

Mirage just chuckled though, then gently pulled Cliffjumper's arms up above him and smiled.

Cliffjumper squirmed, bit his lower lip and wasn't sure he liked this turn of events. Not that Mirage's brilliant smile was in any way threatening, it was just... His cooling system was working a shade harder than it usually did, his wiring was flush with charge in a way it'd never been before and it was enough to make him squirm from that alone and Mirage was using only one hand to trap both of his arms against the mattress. It shouldn't cause a spike of sensation and charge, but it _did_.

"Can you keep your hands there without... ah, assistance?" Mirage asked with a tilt to his helm and his smile a promise Cliffjumper couldn't tell what it was actually promising, except that it tore him between wanting to kick the mech or blush. the latter of which he did, optics flaring, as Mirage pressed a knee against his left hip joint.

"Uhm... no?" What did he say _no_ for?! With a grimace at himself and then at Mirage for _laughing_ at him, slow and gentle as he squeezed his hand around Cliffjumper's trapped ones. He then bent down and brushed his lips over the bared shoulder joints in turn, humming against the metal as the shoulder armour no longer protected them with Cliffjumper's arms up above his helm.

"I didn't think so." Mirage's back was a graceful arch and there were curves and angles in it Cliffjumper was just barely seeing that he sort of wanted to touch - and the thought made charge skitter down his circuits. Just as much as the fact that Mirage's knees at his hips still meant his legs went past Cliffjumper's stretched out ones and the hand around both of his was warm and strong and - and that shouldn't cause a thrill of charge to shoot through him!

Mirage didn't notice of course, or if he did he was busy with other things. Like following the seams in Cliffjumper's chestplates he shouldn't be able to see, static-laced tongue scraping along the not-really-there gaps until Cliffjumper was twisting beneath him, attempting to pull his knees up to push Mirage away at the same time as the chestplates trembled and he was arching up into the clever mouth playing over the metal.

"Mirage!"

"Open up, Cliffjumper," Mirage murmured right into the spot where all those seams joined, while his free hand was stroking from the armour glass of the crescent-shaped windshield to Cliffjumper's side and down over a hip joint, squeezing to push the outer workings against the gimbal. Cliffjumper gasped and wasn't sure if it was because of the hand at his joint, or the metal vibrating against Mirage's lips, but with a brief blink of a status message on his HUD and a sliding _shift_ , the tension around his spark chamber was suddenly slightly lighter.

Optics snapping back online (when had he even offlined them?), Cliffjumper found himself staring at Mirage's face lit up by brilliant whitish-blue light. Spark light. _His_ \---

"Shhh."

The kiss was rather startling because he'd been concentrated on the surprisingly terrifying thought that that was indeed the light of his spark. Even if he'd never admit to it and was already, as Mirage hummed into the kiss and teased him into playing along, embarrassed by his own reaction. If Mirage wasn't practically lightning him from the inside of his mouth and sending brightly distracting little flares of charge by stroking along the outside of his spark chamber, Cliffjumper would probably have attempted to leave just because he was so annoyed and embarrassed at and with himself.

Despite Cliffjumper's attempt at holding on to his annoyance, Mirage managed to lure Cliffjumper back into a squirming, gasping little pile under him, the wiring around his spark chamber glittering bright blue with charge and little flares spitting out from the spark itself, stinging against his hand.

Mirage didn't _mind_ though, because every single little flare of energy sung with its purity, the open force of it, and pulled at him with all its promise of fulfillment. He was exceedingly pleased he'd decided to take a planet-side stroll when he did, because this was perfect. More than perfect. Cliffjumper was absolutely darling, though he'd never tell him that considering the reaction it'd garner. The fact that he had to arch his back to remotely be able to fit against Cliffjumper wasn't an annoyance, but rather gave the charge dancing along his circuits an extra twist.

Withdrawing enough to drop a kiss on Cliffjumper's chinguard, he watched the bright but soft glow of the vivid blue optics and the open gasp of Cliffjumper's mouth, kissed soft and remaining so, and was pleased. The brief, understandable panic at suddenly having the most vulnerable part of him exposed had been chased away.

Charge mingling with his pleasure at that, Mirage slid further down. Tongue following the outline of the slatted metal in Cliffjumper's throat, he bit at the cables, causing a shuddering twist to go through the chassis beneath him and a flare of spark energy sharp enough it briefly numbed his fingers. Holding a vent in, Mirage let his own chestplates slide apart and sat up, tapping Cliffjumper on the tip of his nasal ridge and earning himself an unfocused scowl.

"Cliffjumper, look at me." He waited until the optics actually focused before he continued, caressing down Cliffjumper's side from the top of his helm down to the lower edge of the opened spark chamber. "Ready?"

"... Uhm." Cliffjumper's optics went bright, and then there was that charming, almost aggressive stubbornness as he set his jaw, apparently determined not to - in his own mind at least - embarrass himself again. "... yeah."

The single, quiet word was like a blessing and a lightning strike in one and Mirage couldn't have stopped the smile if he wanted to. Now he could finally give in to the insistent, merciless and sweetly teasing call of those bright energies that he'd been resisting since he first laid his hand on Cliffjumper's arm in the valley.

Letting go of Cliffjumper's wrists, Mirage pulled him up with an arm underneath his aft - he may have squeezed it - and a hand at his back, took another kiss as Cliffjumper's arms stretched to latch around his neck, not long enough to actually _wrap_ around it, and then pushed their cores together.

Liquid lightning shot through their frames and Cliffjumper made a noise, but since he was clutching more firmly to Mirage it was all right.

Everything focused on the charge and the energy intertwining between them, the bright resistance between two different sparks as they nonetheless slid together, the tension rising with each passing astrosecond. Mirage pulled Cliffjumper tight against him and wished they'd been somewhere near a wall so he could've put more force into it, but their chestplates were already grinding together, and the bright flare didn't need any more.

It rose, then hung in a hurricane-eye stillness for a moment, and the breath of Mirage's still storm of power, faint aloofness and sharp wit brushed against what might have been a shallower pool in terms of force, but not strength. Because while Cliffjumper might not possess a Blessed's raw power, he didn't _need to_ , though the slightly too sharp temper and aggressive uncertainty at how to deal with certain things might have been better served when paired with more patience...

The wave broke and descended, energy exploding outwards and then drawn back in, raging down circuits and back into their sparks, overloading systems as it went, and left Mirage collapsing forward, feeling the bright potential settle next to his spark, as it should. Sometime soon, there would be more than one spark there.

Cliffjumper was left staring up at the ceiling of the gazebo, optics wide and feeling kind of raw - but not as tired as he thought he _should be_. He felt like having a vorn-long nap at the same time as he felt ready to do... something. He squirmed against the weight on top of him, and Mirage's chuckle vibrated through him.

"Would you like another round..?"

"Another..?" Frowning, Cliffjumper glanced up at the shadows around Mirage's throat, tucked against the mech's chestplates and under his chin as he was, then startled at the hand that swept down from his hip and _between_... " _Mirage_!" 

How the slag could the mech make him blush after... after what just had happened? But he was, and also twisting against the hand.

"Yes?" Mirage's question was bright and promised yet more things, like his smile before.

Grabbing onto Mirage's arms and finding the seams in the armour, Cliffjumper took a shuddering vent as thoughts of going back right now and how it'd happen fell away as the twitching readiness from the overload slowly coalesced into the beginnings of another charge.

"... Yeah. Okay."

And then he bit Mirage's throat, because it was _right there_ and he wondered what reaction it'd cause. The shudder and moan from Mirage and then being pulled away from Mirage's frame for a kiss that left his processor spinning seemed like a pretty good reaction, nevermind what'd come _after that_.

Hound and the twins and getting back to Cybertron could wait a little longer, Cliffjumper decided with a muffled groan as he once again was left twisting under the taller mech.

Mirage, on the other hand, was pleased he would get the chance to _thoroughly_ deflower the mini, and perhaps after that work on convincing him to stay.

But for now...


End file.
